No Neverland
by NoLogique
Summary: Zombies, pirates, swordplay, spaceships, adventure, action, and romance. It's all a little hard to describe.
1. Chapter 1

There was a cool wind off the sea that swept up the road between the rocks and tousled Fara's hair. She could see Boardwalk ahead, spreading out between the trees and the massive grey rocks that emerged from the water.

She glanced behind her, but the taxi had already flown away, becoming a spot in the sky.

Have I made a mistake? she thought; I should have bought better shoes. I should've paid the driver extra to fly me in closer so I wouldn't have to walk all this way.

Beside her a wave crashed up on the rocks, white spray flying up overhead, startling some birds into the air. She watched the light filter through the water, watched the wave flash back down and drench the rock.

She knew, behind the two largest mountains rearing up from the ocean, was the rest of the town, battered and smashed to pieces from whatever firepower Venom launched against it. Here, though, where the town nestled along the coast and around the coast-side of the mountains, most of the buildings were still intact.

She walked the rest of the way down and passed along under the shadow of the massive rocks, and again into sunlight, where the market stirred and hummed around her.

Still early, she thought; he won't be here for some time.

She walked out from the market, down to the beach, where she sat and stared out at the grey waves. Every night, she'd been told, a fog would roll off the sea and engulf Boardwalk, turning the rocks and the town into a cloud of nothing.

What an excellent concept, she thought; fading away into a mist of water particles.

She must have dozed off; when she blinked next the sun was low on the horizon, and red strands of colour were bleeding out over the sky, a blazing gold encompassing reds and purples and blues.

And sure enough, a grey mist was rising around her off the waves; unfurling its fingers and swimming up the rocks towards the town. I wonder what the science here is, she thought; is it because of the way the rocks are? Something to do with air pressure?

She stood up, and heard someone touch down on the beach behind her. When she looked, she only caught a glimpse before the fog swept up and stole her vision of the beach away from her -- a stern yellow eye and an eye-patch.

Wolf?

She stepped back, almost considering fleeing, heading back to town. But she came all the way out from Corneria City -- she wasn't about to turn back down.

Besides, the sun was stealing beneath the ocean now, and dark blue and wispy stars were taking over the night. A glow in the fog drew her attention.

It was lantern light -- a hood beacon hanging off the prow of a ship plunging through the fog onto the beach.

Fara shivered. There was no sound save for the sound of the beachheads, the straining of the ship, and the rustle of the trees in the distance.

A voice cut through the fog: "Fara Phoenix, how delightful to see you again. How _is_ Fox and the others?"

Fara sniffed. "Wouldn't know. Haven't talked to them in a while."

"Ah," the voice said, "but my eyes can see that you _have_ talked at great length with _someone_ recently. How far are you? Three months?"

Fara touched her belly, and nodded. "Sure. Something like that. Listen, I came all this way because you-- you said you wanted to show me something."

Twin glistening yellow eyes emerged from the fog. "_Yes_. So. Why then would you come?"

"Because I wanted to." She felt uncomfortable now, here alone on the beach in the dark. "Not like there was much for me in Corneria, right?"

"Forgotten. Like me."

She laughed. "You're not forgotten. You're still on every major wanted list in the galaxy."

"Then why am I still at large then?"

"So?"

"I want you to say the words?"

"Awful lot of strings attached to this offer."

"Some. I value your skills, certainly, but I do have my little eccentricities."

"Murdering?"

"Worse than that, I suppose. I'm a terrible poet at times."

"So what words?"

"I want you to say, 'Leon, take me with you'."

"Am I sure that's what I want?"

"You most certainly better be."

"Leon-"

"Yes?"

The hand snatched hers and yanked her bad and she fell onto the beach, hurting her shoulder. The figure emerged from the fog, a pistol flipping up into his hand. The laser shots turned the fog-world around her crimson, and she shouted, "Wolf! Goddamn it-!"

Too late -- Leon's ship backed out, and she could hear its engines roar as it shot off into the sky.

"Damn it, damn it," she said, struggling to her feet. A voice in her head said, _The baby, is the baby okay?_

The figure next to her fired off two shots into the sky, then, with a strangled growl, picked up a rock from the beach and hurled it up out into the ocean. "_Leon!_" he shouted.

Then, as if spent, Wolf sat down on the beach and feverishly began checking his pistol.

Fara stared at him and said, with a shaky voice, "Fox knows I'm here."

"No he doesn't," Wolf said quietly, holstering his pistol and getting to his feet. He stepped forwards, lifted a hand to the air, as if about to make a point. "I recommend-" he began, the stopped. "No, I _suggest_ that of all the careers to choose, vengeance is not the most rewarding. Tinkerbell."

A bright light flashed out of his coat and swirled around him, giggling.

"Track that bastard," Wolf said, turning around and tramping up the beach. "Get me a name of a port, a database, a sighting, anything."

"Can do!" the bright light said gleefully.

Wolf paused on the beach and turned around to look at Fara. "Tell me," he said, "of all people, why _Leon?_"

"He offered," Fara said, glaring at him.

"Really?" Wolf said. "The life of a war criminal is a life of poverty."

"It'd be a change."

He glanced down at her and said, "Whose is that?"

Really? she thought; is that all I can muster from him? Indifference? "Go away, Wolf," she said.

As he vanished into the fog, she turned around and sat down heavily on the ground. From her purse she produced a cell phone and soon she was listening to an electronic voice inform her that Fox was not in his conapt, and in fact, she didn't have the clearance to know his current whereabouts.

I can't believe he took me off his system, she thought.

"Please leave a message."

"Uh, Fox, yeah, hi, it's Fara -- yeah, long time no talk. Listen I really--" The sound of the beachheads crashing against the rocks got to her and she stumbled back, and for a moment she felt like she was still in her cramped windowless conapt staring at her latest military pension cheque on her little table.

The cellphone spun through the air and flew into the water with a splash.

When she turned around Wolf was standing there.

"C'mon," he said. "I'll buy you something to eat."

He didn't wait for a reply, but rather wandered up back into the fog.

At first she considered just standing there on the beach for how many hours it took for daylight to come, just to spite him.

But she was hungry, so she tramped up the beach to follow him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Whoom!_ The curtains flung back and light poured into the conapt. The wallscreen flipped on and announced "6:45 in the morning; it's a beautiful day in Cornerian City, a gorgeous 25 degrees celsius and it looks like traffic is at an all-time LOW!"

Fox sat on the edge of his bed, hands folded on one knee, his eyes on the small telephone console next to his bed frame. He had been sitting there for the last twenty minutes.

Good God, he thought; this is not a good way to start the day.

"Phone," he said.

The little console beeped.

"Call Falco Lombardi, would you?"

He stood up and the bedframe sucked the bed back into the wall. The wallscreen chirped merrily and said, "Would you like Mr. Lombardi onscreen?"

"No, just audio."

"Fox?"

"Falco. Hi. Quick question for you. No. Wait. Scratch that."

His eyes unfocused for a moment and his head hurt. How does Peppy sleep so well these days? he thought; every time I close my eyes I just see an Arwing console and meteors flashing by.

"Is everything okay?" Falco said.

"Maybe. Maybe. Never mind, sorry to bother you."

Before Falco could reply, he switched the phone console off.

"Got my itinerary?" he asked.

The wallscreen chirped and displayed it, but Fox barely glanced at it.

_Finally_, a voice in his head said, _she walked all over you and now you've got her right where you want her -- she wants _your_ help!_

I'll ignore her message, he thought; it was inappropriate anyways. You don't call up an ex like that. That's just-

Inappropriate?

_Uncourteous_, that's what it was. They shouldn't have any obligations to each other anymore.

_Who broke up with who?_

_She_ broke up with _me_. That absolves me of responsibility in these sort of cases.

What responsibility? It's Fara and she needs my help -- this isn't a major stretch for me to want to help her. It's just-- rather--

Don't want to see her?

_You broke up with her._

Did I? But she said-

"Phone call," the screen said. "Falco Lombardi."

"Oh," Fox said. "Put him on, I guess."

The screen flipped images and Falco appeared. "Hey, buddy," he said. "Now how about you tell me what's going on?"

"It was-" He gestured at the console. "God, I don't know. Fara called. Sounded like she was-- just like she was in trouble or something. _Troubled_, rather."

"Didn't you break up with her?"

"Did I? Then why do I remember it being her doing the breaking up?"

"So why don't you just call her?"

"Yeah." He looked out the window, stared at the glow coming into the conapt. "Yeah, I could, couldn't I?"

"You're such a dumbass," Falco said, shaking his head and hanging up the phone, the screen going back to Fox's itinerary.

There was no answer at Fara's, which brought a wave of relief to Fox, who decided it wasn't _his_ fault he couldn't get a hold of her, and went into the side room to bathe.

Lunch time swept Fox out into the streets, up a few flights of stairs and into a restaurant where the colours were dark, the food was spicy, and what little light that got in made Krystal's fur glow with a blue bloom.

Krystal smiled. "- and then Perry said he wanted me to do a few novelizations, which means he was impressed."

To the left of her wine glass sat the book _Cerinia -- A Memory by Krystal Kurisutaru_.

Fox grimaced. "Perry's full of crap."

"Well, _I_ was flattered. You never know though, do you? Maybe writing is good for me -- Dr. Fathal said writing was a good, you know, outlet for any latent aggressive feelings I might have pent up in me."

Fox smiled as best he could. If she's going to start talking about her psychoanalyst again, he thought, I'm leaving. "Really," he said. "I figured active military service would do that for you."

The edges of her lips darted up. "Sarcasm again," she said. She picked up the book. "_This_ was a project, nothing else. Share in some of my success once in a while -- we all share in yours."

He picked up the book and stared at it. No, he thought; _this_ is sensationalism. This is cathartic vomit of yours poured out onto the bookshelves.

Catch yourself there, Fox, he thought. "Sorry," he said quietly, putting the book back down. "You're right." He stood up. "Listen, I need to make a phone call."

She scrutinized him with those perceptive eyes of hers and said, "Go on."

He made it out to the back, found a public phone and stabbed it with his thumb. When it recognized his print, he tried calling Fara again.

This is bad for you, Fox, he thought; you should be out in space again.

But no, she wasn't home, so he hung up again.

God, Fara, he thought; I hope you're okay.

The food had arrived by the time he returned to the table. Krystal poured them both another two glasses of wine, all the while eyeing him. "Mhm," she said.

"Mhm what?" he said, looking down at his food and picking up a fork. Synthetic meat again -- no herd animal harmed in the making of this plate; great, he thought.

"Just-" she said, watching him. "Do we-- do we have trust issues?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Something's bothering you."

"How so?"

"Fox," she said, picking up her glass of wine and inspecting it. "What's in your left jacket pocket?"

Fox reached back, found his jacket pocket; his fingers touched plastic. "Cell phone," he said.

"You only use the pay phone when you're agitated. So-"

"I don't know. It could just be nothing."

"What could be?"

"My ex-girlfriend called me last night and left me a message. Fara. Sounds like-- shit,I don't know; she sounded-- Maybe I'm just being an idiot."

"What'd she say?"

"Not much. Just the tone of her voice."

"And you didn't want to mention this to me?"

"Telling significant others about late night unsolicited phone calls from ex-girlfriends usually doesn't go over very well."

Krystal said nothing; she continued to inspect the wine. "I see," she said.

"I don't get it. She broke up with _me_. She shouldn't be calling."

"Mhm."

"At least. I think."

Krystal's eyes swung like a slow-moving pendulum up from the wine to look at him. "Who broke up with who?"

"Technically, I did."

"How can someone _technically_ break up with someone?"

"Well, she wanted me to break up with her, so I did."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, like, it was weird." He rubbed his head, feeling uncomfortable. I didn't want to have this conversation, he thought. "She just started acting depressed around me all the time, and hardly talked to me. For weeks. And then, when I didn't break up with her for that, she started talking about her inadequacies, how the relationship wasn't healthy, and when I didn't break up with her for that, she kept talking about how she thought she was holding me back (from what, I don't know), and kept asking me if I wanted to break up with her."

Krystal nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Fox took a sip from his wine glass, swallowed, felt the wine spread its fingers over his body. "So one day I asked her if she wanted to break up with me, and she replied by asking _me_ if I wanted to break up with her. So, to hell with it, I gave her what she wanted. She shouldn't be calling me for help."

Krystal sat there, unmoving, watching him, as the light dimmed outside from the clouds, and the candlelight from the table touched her fur with a dancing glow. Finally she said, "Why did you never tell me this?"

Fox shrugged. "Guess it never came up."

"Since when would something like that come up in conversation?"

"Exactly."

She looked at him reproachfully, but he didn't care; he was uncomfortable enough with this conversation.

---

The phone rang next to Falco's hand and the wallscreen next the landscape painting chirped and spat and went dead.

Impossible, he thought; there's no one in Cornerian City with a jammer, could there be?

It'd make for an interesting call, certainly. He snatched up the phone and took the console over to the wallscreen on the other side of his condo.

"Falco?" the voice said.

Falco paused for a moment, nearly stumbled, and continued his trek towards the other wallscreen. "Leon," he said.

"How _are_ you, Lombardi?"

He plugged the phone console directly into the second wallscreen, and stared at his new wood finishing in his kitchen. He wasn't used to the new wealth, didn't know what to spend it on, so he spent it on this condo.

The wallscreen sputtered and died.

"Fine, Leon," Falco said. "Where are you calling from?"

"Did you know that our mutual friend Fox has his cell phone turned off at the moment? Why would someone own one of those things if one was not to use it?"

"Keep talking," Falco said. "I'm tracking this call as we speak."

He didn't know why he lied, but it made him feel better. He strained his ears, trying to hear something beyond Leon's voice, anything to give him a clue--

"Oh yes, I _bet_ you are," Leon said. "You just pass on a message to Fox from me to him, won't you, sweetie? Tell him that I'll have his precious Fara soon, and it'll be wonderful to see his expression after what I'm going to do to her."

"Why would Fox care? They broke up a year ago." Falco was impressed he kept his voice steady -- he tried to remember exactly what Fox had said about that message Fara had sent.

"Because he's _Fox_, Lombardi. You know him better than that. Ta ta."

The phone went dead.

"Uh huh," he said, hanging the phone back up on the console. Immediately both wallscreens flipped back on, revealing the temperature, the time, and the number of messages in Falco's inbox.

"Right," he said.

He told the wallscreen to call Slippy.


	3. Chapter 3

In her right hand, she could feel the joystick of an Arwing, its synthetic grip rough against her palm. Around her, she could almost sense the heavy presence of the cockpit, and the sound of the engines rumbling around her.

That feeling, of soaring off-- well, there was nothing to beat it, to be honest.

But there was no cockpit, just a lumpy mattress beneath her; no engine sounds, just the faraway crashing of the breakers against the beach and the rocks.

She dressed quickly in the glow of the morning light coming through the windows. The hotel room was cramped, but it has done its job. Last night, she thought; certainly figured Wolf would've tried something, but the way he left--

She stepped out of the hotel onto the crowded street, hearing the noises of the marketplace, the shouts of the fishermen and jewelers. The air was cool and wet from the ocean; salty. Above, seabirds snatched at each other's beaks, and cried into the morning grey.

Wolf, she thought; if you hadn't stuck your dirty muzzle into my business, I'd be off on a rogue space station somewhere, actually _flying_ a ship. Have a living I'd be proud to bring my baby into, rather than have her mother waste away behind some bureaucratic desk or toil and trudge in some service job...

She saw him when she approached the beach. He stood on an outcropping of rocks overlooking the waves, the air playing with his long coat. He stared out at the horizon.

"- doesn't make sense," he was saying as she approached. "No stops at any stations, no sightings in any fields?"

"Hey, you know me, love," Tinkerbell said, the little bright ball whizzing up and around the rocks. "Checked twice. No Leon."

"Right," Wolf said. He snatched a rock up from the ground and tossed it into the ocean. "He's still hanging around here then."

"Great," Fara said. "Next time he can actually pick me up."

"Certainly," Wolf said, glancing back at her. He grimaced. "Not before I put a hole in his skull; you bear that in mind." He passed her, the little bright light following him. "What the heck do _you_ want with a scumbag like him, anyways?"

Fara shrugged. "He's got work for me. Aren't you wanted by the police?"

He clambered up a rock onto the road. "Yep."

"Where're you going?"

"Back to the house."

She followed him; if there was anyone who could find Leon, it was going to be Wolf. If she tagged along, she figured she could get things to come around to her way of thinking, namely her fingers on the controls of Leon's ship and Wolf down somewhere being earthbound and sulky.

Still, she wasn't entirely sure what he meant by a _house_. She figured a war criminal like him slept on a bed of moss in between two uncomfortable rocks. The appearance of the ancient-looking stone country house nestled on top of a cliff overlooking the ocean only served to confuse her further.

"Whose house is this?" she asked.

"Are you following me?"

"Whose house?"

"Mine. Part of the O'Donnell fortune. Are you following me?"

"I thought the government seized your property."

"They seized _mine_. This house was a great-uncle's. Technically, it still is."

The door opened and a little four-legged lizard loped out towards him, tongue hanging in the air. It leapt up at him and he stumbled back, saying, "Okay, _okay_, boy. Christ, I was gone for, what, two hours?"

"Master Wolf," an elderly bichon said, standing in the doorway. "Back so soon? Lunch isn't ready yet."

"I'm not hungry," Wolf said, pushing past her and disappearing into the house.

The old bichon pursed her lips, and then glanced back towards Fara. "My goodness," she said. "Are you a friend of Wolf?"

Fara flushed, and looked away. "Not really."

"Well, come in, dear, come in -- obviously, he's in one of his moods; come in, don't be shy, we don't bite."

She stepped into the house and felt a wave of age press down upon her. The house had to be at least two hundred years old. Bricks creaked, and furniture seemed to be at the cusp of falling apart, held together by nothing but good intentions. She got the glimpse of Wolf disappearing up a flight of carpeted stairs.

"Well, lunch _will_ be ready," the bichon said, closing the door behind her. "Give it half an hour -- it's the cook's day off, so I'm running a little late."

"No worries," Fara said, quietly, suddenly uncomfortable.

There was a cry of surprise from above, and the bichon turned and shouted, "Oh yes, sir, I forgot! You have a visitor!"

Fara took to the stairs and gingerly climbed them, hearing voices echoing from the second floor.

"- you doing here?"

"Yeesh, Wolf, that any way to talk to your old buddy?"

"Old buddies, uninvited guests -- yeah, they get similar treatment."

"I just thought I'd drop by, buddy."

The second floor hall was musty with age -- it had wood finishing and extended down to an open door, with doors on either side. There was a state of an angel sitting next to the landing, a shelf above a door with old books, charts, and a sextant; there was a long fishing rod mounted on a wall, and an ancient cutlass on another.

Beyond the far door Fara could see light pouring in through two huge wall-sized windows, bathing a figure sitting in an easy chair in a white glow. The room was a library -- she could see books framing the easy chair on either side of a large fireplace.

Wolf stood in front of the figure, his body language confrontational; not the best at parties, are you, Wolf? she thought.

The figure leaned in, and the shadows peeled off him, and she could see his face, and see his grin; her blood turned cold. "I have something to _show_ you, Wolf," he said.

Andrew Oikonny. Andross's nephew.

But wasn't he dead? Or supposed to be dead?

"You shouldn't have come here," Wolf said in a rumbling voice, moving out of the door frame.

Andrew saw her, stiffened and reached into his coat for a weapon.

"Do it!" Tinkerbell's voice called, the little ball of light shooting past Fara's sight. "Shoot the bitch!"

Andrew got out of the chair, aiming a large laser pistol. "Who's there? Is that Ms. Imelda? Come up slowly."

"Frightening my staff, are you, Andrew?" Wolf's voice came.

Why did I come here? Fara thought; _why did I come?_

"It's _Fara_," Andrew said, his voice molesting each syllable of her name. "Fara Phoenix."

"Yes," Wolf's voice said. "She's invited for lunch."

"_Who_ invited her? You?"

"She invited herself, I think."

"Hands up where I can see them!"

"Andrew-"

"Mhm?"

"Put the gun _down_."

Andrew hesitated for a moment, and then set the gun down on the side table next to the armchair.

Fara bit her lower lip, thinking. What now? she thought; do I waltz in, try and play like Andrew Oikonny didn't just point a _gun_ at my head?

"Gun's put down, Wolf," Andrew said, smugly.

Wolf's hands reached into frame and snatched Oikonny's collar. Wolf appeared, wrenching the ape off his feet and smashing him into the chair, knocking him over and sending him sprawling across the floor.

"What-?" Andrew cried, rolling onto his knees. "What the _fuck_, Wolf."

Wolf jumped over the overturned chair, yanked Andrew up and hurled him out of Fara's sight. She heard a crashing noise, and the heavy sound of books falling onto the ground.

A metallic _schling_ -- Andrew appeared in-frame, stabbing at Wolf with a fire poker. Wolf ducked; the poker went over his shoulder; he moved and Andrew's head snapped back, blood flying from the ape's nose. Andrew fell out of frame again.

"Wolf-" Andrew's voice was pained. "Why-?"

"Let's play the explain game," Wolf said, moving towards Andrew and out of Fara's sight. "Let's play _how did Andrew know where Wolf was_. It's a fun game."

"_Fuck_, Wolf-! God, you _psychopath_."

More sounds of crashing, a low moan. Wolf's voice: "That blood I see, Andy?"

"_Fuck_-"

"Start playing the game, Andrew."

"Leon, you_ fucker!_ Leon told me!"

"How did Leon know?"

"I don't _know_-"

A unhappy noise from Andrew's throat; Fara flinched as Andrew flew into sight and hit the overturned arm-chair, limping collapsing over it like a rag doll.

"That doesn't make sense, Andrew," Wolf said, moving into frame to stand over the ape. "If he knew I was here, then why would he-?"

Wolf turned and stared at Fara. "Why would he come-?"

Fara felt very small standing on the landing like that. I'm in danger, she thought; I shouldn't have come.

"Why risk that?" Wolf said.

The voice of the bichon came up from the landing: "Luuunch is ready!"

Andrew uttered a low moan.

---

Krystal stood in the back of Slippy's little basement apartment, her black fur coat blending in with the darkness of the place. Beyond, in the little room that glowed from all of Slippy's equipment, she heard her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's voice play over and over again.

"Let's try to just cut out some of the higher channels," Slippy said, leaning forwards so he could see the computer screen better. "There _is_ something happening underneath all that, for _sure_--"

Standing next to him, Fox nodded, although he didn't really hear what he said. He was looking at Falco, and he was trying to contain what felt like a tempest rising up between his ribs -- _Leon_, here on Corneria, threatening _Fara_. It was all he could do not to go hijack an Arwing and fly out that moment, right then.

But fly out where?

"There!" Slippy said, his face white from the computer light. "Hear that? It's like a bass beat, but slower --"

"I hear it," Falco said.

"I don't," Fox said.

"Lemme cut a couple more channels here," Slippy said. "There, here that?"

It sounded like static to Fox's ears, but then... as he listened, it began to break up and remind him of something -- it was almost like listening to a memory instead of a sound.. it sounded almost exactly like-

"Waves," Krystal said, from behind them. "Those are waves."

"And seagulls," Falco said. "So we're close to land."

"Leon, Leon, Leon -- there was a sighting of him in a coastal town not too long ago," Slippy said. He tapped at his keyboard. "Government ships were sent out -- couldn't find him -- did anyone talk to anyone about maybe if Fara had mentioned anything? Like leaving anywhere?"

"I called Bill," Fox said, "but he said Fara hadn't talked to anyone since she was laid off."

"Boardwalk," Slippy said. He poked his monitor screen with his finger. "Lots of rocks up there -- lots of places for a ship to hide."

"What would he be doing there?" Falco said.

"It's a pretty good trade route," Slippy said. "Air pressures during the day are good for atmo-flying and it's smack dab between Nega City and Corneria City. I'd say he's been doing a little pirating."

"No," Fox said. "There's been hardly any lost ships along that region. I remember that Leon sighting -- any stuff like that and we'd have been notified, wouldn't we?"

Falco shrugged. "Probably."

"Then what's he doing there?" Slippy said.

"_If_ he's there," Falco said.

Fox leaned back against the wall and said, "This is getting us nowhere."

"Still, though," Slippy said. "In the past two months, there's been three sightings of Leon in the core banks -- one at Boardwalk, one at Royal Station, orbiting Sector Y, and one at Boardwalk."

"Shall I book a ticket?" Krystal asked.

Fox glanced up at her and said, "If Leon's there, he'll never know what hit him."

And then there was something in his eyes that made Krystal glad she came along with them; a certain brilliance, the excitement that had been there when there were armadas on either side of them.

"Mhm," Krystal said. "Then let's go."

-----

"It's you," Wolf said, taking a step into the hall towards her. "He wants _you_ -- that's why he's still hanging around."

He looked incredulous; he looked like he had just discovered a food that tasted odd, a piece of music with strange harmonies. As he stepped into the hall, he moved into silhouette, the shadows flowing over his shoulders and pooling in the dark fur on his face.

Fara took a step back; run, she thought; just run down the stairs, he'll never get to you in time.

Behind Wolf, Andrew moved, reaching for the discarded laser pistol. He snatched it, raised it, sending up the familiar whine of a charging weapon.

"Look out!" Fara cried.

But she hadn't needed to; the barrel of the pistol came squarely leveled not at Wolf but at _her_.

Andrew's eyes glittered with evil intent. "Say, Missy Phoenix, _erg_-" He got to his feet. "How's about you step inside here; maybe take a seat?"

Wolf paused and turned back to look at him. Andrew glanced at him, smiling, looking for approval, despite the blood pouring down from his noise, and the swollen purple bruise slowly closing his right eye. "See? You can trust me!"

"Take a comfortable chair," Wolf said quietly, moving past her now. Fara shuddered as he swept by the top the stairs. "Ms. Imelda!" he shouted down. "Set an extra place at the table!"

"Oh _good!_" the bichon said cheerfully.


End file.
